[Pig's Foot] Drink In One Hand, Girl In The Other (Haesmar)

[Ustengrav]

36th Day of Summer, 512AV So it came to that time of day again, Where the ale would soon be flowing freely down Ustengrav's throat. He had savoured this moment from the time he opened his eyes in the morning till the time he would eventually close them from a alcohol induced stupor at night. All he had on his mind now was the bitter sweet taste of the ale and the lustful behinds of the women that would surely be catering for the needs of the other patrons. Ustengrav was in this lawless city for only one reason, work. It had felt like ages since he was given a task, any task and his hands and head had grown dull and stiff from the lack of paid employment. Walking threw the cracked doorway entrance, Ustengrav was greeted by the smell of stale ale and mead and the sight of many drunk men fighting, drinking and laughing, the kind of fun that he longed for the entire day. He noticed the floor was filthy and unkempt, the walls were speckled with dried blood and alcohol stains and the furniture were chipped and splintered. He had drank in far nice and cleaner places than this but this was probably the best quality of surroundings he would find in this ruined and lawless city. Carefully walking up towards the bar, trying to avoid the fights that blocked his way, Ustengrav put his hand in his pocket picking up a few gold mizas into his grasp. "A pint of your finest ale and keep em coming!" Ustengrav said with his usual gruffy but deeply unique voice while planting ten gold coins on the bar. The tender nodded without a word and looked out a large, metal flagon, he then started to pour the alcoholic concoction until it touched the very top rim of the drinking mug. Ustengrav's eyes widened and a large smile appeared on his face. The smell of the ale began to seep into the lining of of his nostrils, he could barely contain himself any longer. Grabbing the flagon in both hands, Ustengrav opened his mouth and poured the ale in, gluttonously gulping down the bitter sweet liquid. The taste was of apples and honey, complimented by the slight bitterness of the hops that had been used to make it. It was blissful. He was surprised at the quality of the ale here, it could not be compared to the state that was the city. Before he knew it, two hours had past and twelve flagons full later, he was hammered. In this state everything became more interesting, the fighting became hilarious and the women became even more attractive. His eyes locked on to what appeared to be a beauty entering the tavern, he could not see her face but she looked strong and had amazing hair. He had his drink, now it was time for the woman.

[Lornak]

Haesmar entered the city with a mixture of fear & excitement. He'd heard from his father about the lawlessness of this city, but he never expected to be able to feel the chaos in the air. He had no idea where to start, he'd left home expecting things to fall into place in his mind. But so far nothing had occurred to him. "Where would my father start?" He wondered to himself. A tavern. Although Haesmar didn't drink he'd spent some time in taverns with his father & his human friends. His father had taught him how to gamble, using Haesmar to train himself, but passing on a few tricks of the trade in turn. A tavern would be a perfect place to relax & contemplate his next move. "I could also make some easy coin." Haesmar decided. Walking down the street he saw things he'd never seen before. Prostitutes shouted obscenities at him from alleyways, offering sexual favours for a few gold Mizas. A lot of fighting seemed to occur, a lot of the ground was stained with blood, but no one seemed to take any notice when fights broke out in the street. He tapped his purse to make sure it was still there. "Pigs foot?" Haesmar smirked to himself,"a fitting place for a farmers son." He entered the Tavern and was greeted with a smell of stale ale & sweat in the air. There were stains all over the wall, some blood, some ale. By looking around he could tell that not all of the blood was from the past. There were a few citizens fighting already & no one batted an eye towards them. He wasn't sure what to think of this tavern, was this the best this city had to offer? Cautiously moving to the bar, Haesmar took notice of a few men in the corner playing cards. They seemed to sober for him to intervene just now, so he would just bide his time. He sat down & after a glance from the dishevelled bartender he was ignored. Just how he liked it.

[Ustengrav]

Ustengrav watched as his presumed to be lover for the night sat at the opposite end of the bar. Although his eyes were blurred from the amount of drink he had consumed, he was positive that this fair maiden was ripe for the picking. He had always been a woman's man, infact the only thing that he loved more than the vile concoctions of alcohol was the perfect women of Mizahar, he had a weakness for them, they captivated his very being and he knew it. Stumbling over the pitiful excuse for a chair that he was perched upon, Ustengrav began to make his way towards his fair lady, this task was alot harder than expected as his legs shook with every step influenced by the alcohol that coursed threw his system. His head swirled and his speech was slurred, he didn't mind though, once a drink was down his gullet, his confidence with the ladies sky-rocketed even if in reality he looked a complete fool. Time seemed to slow as he walked, his eyes shifted between the drunken brawls and the gamblers in the corners, only to be redirected almost against his will towards the strong, attractive maiden. If she was not impressed by his charm and rugged, wild looks, he was convinced that she would be impressed by his large axe that was slung across his back, surely she would appreciate the expertly crafted weapon. If worst came to worst, he could always been direct and ask for a sly, quick one. Finally reaching his maiden after what seemed like hours, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and whispered in her ear. The stench of ale radiated from his mouth, if she endured that, then he had surely found a keeper! "Sooo.. myss sweetssss plum." he said with a strong slur, his deep distinctive voice still breaking through the drunken lisp. "Whatsss a beeeaaauuuuuutiful fair maiden likesss your sssselfsh doing in a ssstate like thisss?" his head started to ever so slight bob up and down as the drink started to affect his coordination. "Maybess me and your fine sssselfsh should keepsh each otherss company tonightss?" he was confident that with his charm that she wouldn't be able to resist. Slowly caressing her shoulders, he waited for the reply that would ultimately decide if his night would be a fun one or a lonely one.

[Lornak]

Haesmar had been readying himself to move to the table of gamblers & earn himself some gold, when he'd smelt the foul stench of ale breathing close to his ear & felt firm hands clumsily placed on his shoulders. His confusion was quickly replaced by anger as he realised why he'd been chosen. The drunkard had mistaken him for a woman. He felt his cheeks flush with rage. The other man was mumbling sweet words in his ear, well he assumed they were suppose to be sweet words, he had little experience with woman. But this mess clearly thought he was something woman desired. Haesmar stood quickly, staring the elder human straight in the eye. He was a drunken mess. Slightly taller than Haesmar & a good bit heavier. He had clearly been a warrior in his younger days, a chain-mail that looked like it'd seen a few battles, scuffed and battered, but all cosmetic damage. He noticed the stains on the mans trousers from spilled drink, but no blood. A small hint of doubt entered Haesmars mind, maybe there's a reason no one has started a fight with this man? But he refused to back down, his rage was still rising steadily as he thought about the insult to his manhood. No one else in the tavern had seen the exchange, people were still fighting, people were still gambling, but he could only see it through a red haze. "Touch me again & you'll pull back a stump you dirty bastard."

[Ustengrav]

Ustengrav watched in delight as his presumed woman stood up, a large smile crept on showing his straight, nicely shaped teeth. His fine, silver tongued words and what he presumed good rugged looks had made him irresistible. Or so he thought. Her long, well kept hair was of the colour blonde and was neatly wrapped into a ponytail. Her shoulders were broad and strong, the defining feature of a sturdy female. He could not wait until she faced him and showed him the glowing beauty of her finesse. However, this is was the moment were his enthusiasm and eagerness to feel a woman's warmth that night had been crushed. As her head turned, Ustengrav started to see that, this "woman" had a firm, chiselled jaw, a slightly crooked bent nose and a rough face, that had presumable just been shaven. He looked down and saw large rough hands and his limbs were completely out of proportion of what you would expect a female to look like. He looked back up and came face to face with a pair of cold, icy blue ices. Ustengrav had finally realised that this wasn't the fair maiden lover of his dreams but a young, well built man that clearly wasn't happy about the promises of drunken ecstasy being whispered in his ear. Ustengrav's head lashed back in shock with the thought of him trying it on with another male and with it came the rest of his alcohol induced body. A few mumbled, undistinguishable words left his mouth as he dropped. A large crash rung through the room as Ustengrav's heavy body fell to the dirty, cracked floor. A couple of laughs circled certain parts of the tavern as a few of the other patrons had taken interest, to see what events would unfold. Slowly but clumsily, Ustengrav made it back up to his feet. He now almost had wished he kept his head sober because now he was wobbling all over the place trying to keep his balance. What made matters worse was that he stumbled as he tried to correct his footing and was hurtling towards the angry youngling, that moments ago he mistakenly tried to seduce. Ustengrav was now expecting an black eye for his efforts, this was now the third stage of the three stages that seemed to repeat itself most nights in his life. Drinking, screwing and fighting. Tomorrow would be one hell of a hangover.

[Lornak]

Haesmar had stared at his opponent for only a small amount of time. But for him in his anger it'd felt like an age. The elder human was tall & heavyset, wearing a warriors chain-mail & stained cotton trousers. His braided beard compliment the chiselled features of his face. You could see his experience & the slight sagging of features that came with over indulgence. He'd seen the man's mouth start moving, but couldn't make out the words, his right hand closed into a fist and he felt his upper arm tense solidly as he pulled it back and swung it upwards to the drunkards jaw. Haesmar had connected solidly with the uppercut to the jaw. The older man had flown backwards & crashed to the ground with a resounding thump. A few of the other men in the tavern chuckled as the drunken warrior hit the ground, no one seemed bothered, only amused. Haesmars anger ebbed slightly as the man hit the ground. He shifted his eyes around taking in his surroundings trying to figure out if he was going to have his throat slit by any of the men here. He couldn't tell, they all looked capable of it, but not all interested. He stared at the drunk man as he started to rise, shakily trying to regain his footing, he started towards Haesmar & was hurling towards him, his stumble was a stroke of luck, it caused Haesmar to misjudge the right hook he'd swung and it went completely over his head. He felt a shoulder just below his ribs, and his back smash into the bar. He aimed a blow down towards the man's ear hoping to hurt him enough that he would back off and this wouldn't have to come to anything more than a scuffle.

[Ustengrav]

One good thing about being drunk was that Ustengrav's luck seemingly increased, he himself did not believe in luck, he believed everything happened just by chance, however this belief was contradicted by many a drunken fight where he evaded potential knock out blows just from the coincidence of his drunken mistakes for example falling over just as a punch was being launched for his chin. This provided an excellent opportunity to retaliate and deliver his own punches. Ustengrav's accidental stumble caused him to crash into the younglings ribs, a deliberate shoulder barge it would seem if he was sober, but this was nothing more than an accident, a consequence of his drunken state. Ustengrav wasn't purposely trying to fight, he was actually trying to stabilise himself and stop clumsily falling all over the place, he had already upset one person, it wouldn't have been beneficial to his state of health, if he angered more, because unlike the youngling, others wouldn't of hesitated to bring weapons into the scuffle and that would prove disastrous, he had several scars on the many different parts of his body to prove this. Taking a deep breath Ustengrav pushed his hands off the floor and began to rise from the position he was in. This was cut short by the feeling of a strong knock to the side of his head, a blow had been thrown by the youngling in an attempt to get him to back off. His ear throbbed as the hard hit connected on the side of his skull. Ustengrav gave another attempt to get up, ignoring the pulsing sensation of pain that started to grow stronger around a larger area of his head. Standing back on his two feet Ustengrav rubbed his blood shot eyes and tried to focus on the young one. He had received a few knocks from this ones limbs, now it was time to return the favour. Lining up his target Ustengrav made an attempt to grab his arms to stop him from retaliating. Although drunk, He knew by the material that his opponent was wearing that it would be relatively easy to hold him him place, this was vital because when a drunk fights, their aim tended to be inaccurate, he knew this from experience because he had fought in a drunken stupor countless times. Ustengrav quickly levered back his head and brought it back again with surprising speed. His head shot towards the younglings, in an attempt to deliver some pain of his own.

[Lornak]

Pleasure pulsed momentarily through Haesmar as his fist connected with the side of his opponents head. He'd hoped to knock the older man down to one side but only sent his neck jerking to one side. Haesmar was growing confident, he seemed to have the better of this fight, perhaps the man had fallen to push him into the bar? He didn't seem steady enough on his feet to be able to do any damage. The drunk rose to unsteady feet & squinted at Haesmar. That's when he grabbed him, both arms were locked in by the hands that a few moments before had been caressing his shoulders. He was shocked by the strength in the grip, he'd expected to be able to shrug this man off but again, doubts entered his mind. "Stop thinking, start winning!" Haesmar chastised himself internally. The elder human pulled his head back and delivered a thunderous headbutt, splitting the skin below Haesmars left eye. Using the mans loosened grip against him Haesmar burst his arms outwards throwing the hands off him & opening his opponents body up, he readied his knee and quickly brought it upwards towards the opponents exposed stomach, if he could wind him & possibly break a few ribs, this fight could be over. He could feel the hot blood dribbling down his face from his damaged eye. His anger was almost gone, he couldn't believe it, but he was actually enjoying the fight. He'd known he'd wanted to be a warrior from a young age, he imagined this's what a real battle must be like, time had slowed for him, he wasn't thinking about the past or the future, only the present. His anger was replaced by anticipation, a longing to know what was going to happen next. It was like reading one of his fathers books, except instead of full stops, the sentences were punctuated with blows to the face.

[Ustengrav]

Ustengrav's blow had landed causing the under eye of the opponent, that was a dangerous advantage which he could, if drunkness permitting, exploit, a damaged eyed was not a injury you could afford to keep with in a fight, if further damage occurred, it would inevitable close up causing all sorts of problems such as distorted range perception not to mention the pain would soon to be uncontrollable if the weak, thin bone began to fracture. Maybe it was time to sacrifice taking a few hits for being able to dish out a few hits, it now was his intention to hit that bad eye, even if it meant getting hurt in the processes, anyway he was pretty coinfident he could take it. Loosing his grip to get ready for launching one of his fists, the younglings next move surprised him by bursting open from his loosening hold, this was followed by a strong well placed knee that was aimed towards his abdominal region, the mail that he was wearing would surely absorb some impact of the blow if he chose to take the blow, but not enough to make dampen much of its hurtful effects. He had decided to take it, a decision that he may not of done if he had a clear head, alcohol had the tendency to do that to a man, increasing sense of confidence and invincibly. The blow from the knee crushed into his stomach, forcing pressure up through his body and winding him, hard panting became his breath pattern now at least till his bodies adrenaline kicked in. Adrenaline however, would not last forever and this firmly placed blow would most likely cause significant bruising to his well muscled stomach. Now that his opponent was close and personal, he could now retaliate. Wrapping his arm around the younglings knee, Ustengrav now had him within range. Raising his fist and a arching his shoulder, Ustengrav launched a ferocious hook that thundered across, aimed for the side of his head, it didn't matter where, the force of the punch would be destructive either way. Ustengrav followed the punch by pushing upward and lifting the younger off the ground, this would surely throw him down to the ground leaving him vulnerable for a mounted attack, if not, it would at least give him some time to recovered from the hard knocks he received.

[Lornak]

Haesmar saw the punch at the last second, he dropped his head & took a glancing blow to his temple. It disorientated him slightly but it protected his already damaged eye. The older man still had a hold of his knee holding it close to him & straight after the hit Hasemar felt himself being lift off the ground & landed heavily on his back. His knee was still in a prime position so he tensed it, hoping to drive it back into his opponents chest. He was use to fighting from the ground, wrestling with animals on the farm had meant he knew how to use his strength from the position. He aimed two blows at the drunks face, two quick jabs, & followed through by attempting to grab the drunks head & putting him in a headlock in the ground. He knew the man was winded. If he could get a lock round his throat he could hopefully make him pass out & end this now. Haesmar was tiring. He could feel it, the blow to his head was making his head swim & the cut under his eye was still letting blood flow freely down his face. He hoped that the older man was feeling the effects too, the gift of youth meant he should have more stamina, and that could be a decisive factor in this fight.